“I always liked you, too, honey.” The way she kept saying his name in that intoxicated purr, savoring the v between her teeth and her bottom lip, was unnerving. Unnerving, hell. It had his dick twitching in his pants. “Come on, girl, you need to sleep it off.”
“I mean I like liked you.”
Shit. Most people who uttered careless words while drunk tended to blame it on the alcohol later. He’d always found it to be the time when the truth came out. Danger signals were going off in his brain. “You’re drunk. Sleep.”
Though she was most likely oblivious to his commands, he didn’t like how desperate his voice was starting to sound to his own ears.
“No I’m not.” Her silly lopsided grin belied her words as she finally obeyed his coaxing and crawled to the spot he’d cleared. He pulled the covers up for her as she settled against the pillow and peered up at him. The heat in her eyes as she did so damn near destroyed him. “I don’ wanna sleep.” She kicked, flinging the covers off just as he got them arranged. “Don’ need all that, I’m hot. I’m too hot.”
Was she ever. He raked a hand through his hair. For such a little thing, her legs seemed to go on forever, long and sleek. He could only imagine the silken glide her inner thighs would be against his fingertips. Her shirt had ridden up to bare her flat midriff, where her belly ring winked at him in the dim lighting—damn, that was sexy, and so out of place on her. Her br**sts strained against the tight little shirt, and the friction had her n**ples peaking beneath the fabric.
Her hands caught his face, surprising him. He should have moved away from her long ago, before she could get her hands on him. As it was, he felt like a fly caught in the sticky gossamer of a spider’s den. “Always wanted to f**k you, y’know that? Even when I was a virgin.”
He drew in a breath, exhaled it shakily. So much for prudish.
Note to self: Kelsey now gets unbelievably horny when drunk.
She licked her lips, staring into his eyes with surprising clarity for someone who had nearly passed out moments ago. The glint of moisture her tongue left behind was mesmerizing. He wanted to taste it. The heat of her palms sank into his flesh. She was burning up. Her legs were haphazardly parted, still tangled in the covers, and he could scent her arousal, musky and sweet.
“It’s not going to happen, Kelsey.” His voice probably sounded as firm as a little girl’s, but he gave it his best shot. All his strength had drained to his dick. It pushed against his zipper until he thought it might burst through if he didn’t release it soon. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
That pout resurfaced, but he was astounded at the pain that leaked into her gray eyes. It was…real, and raw, not some byproduct of an inebriated mind.
“You don’ want me. Why’d you never want me?” She was rubbing her thighs together now, the action only causing her scent to waft stronger into his nostrils. Like witchcraft, it drew him toward her, made the mental filmstrip of tearing her shorts off and sinking himself into the tight wet heat of her p**sy play over and over again in his head…until it obliterated all else: morals, rationale, sanity. And he had never wanted her. Right.
God, she would feel so good closing in around him. He’d deprived himself for too long. She took one of his hands and laid it flat on her belly, then pushed it down toward the place she needed it. Her stomach muscles pulled taut beneath his reluctant touch, and that skin was hot and satiny. She leaned upward, parting her lush pink lips in wanton invitation.
No.
It was one thing for two people to get hammered and go at each other. It was quite another when one of them had full control of his faculties and the other had none. Criminal even, and he could never take advantage of her like that. But he’d never been quite so tempted, he had to give her that much.
He pulled his hand away from hers and went to stand. She emitted some incoherent whimper that ripped at his heart, completely decimating it when the sound formed into words. “Evan, don’t leave…don’t leave me like this…please…”
No other hetero male on the planet could have endured the sight of her all disheveled in his bed, writhing and senseless and begging him to f**k her, without falling on her like a rutting animal. He should be declared saint of all the world to have lasted this long. If he hadn’t known her for all these years, he couldn’t have stopped himself.
Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead; one trickled back into her hair. The skin above her neckline glistened in the soft lighting. She was in flames, and he’d hardly put a hand on her.
“Kelsey, don’t do this to me.”
“Please,” she whispered again, gazing up at him, utterly smashed but still capable of all the determined longing that came along with such a state. She wouldn’t let herself pass out until she got it. “Do something. Touch me. Evan. God, I need it…”
The husky plea pushed him past his breaking point. She sounded like a different woman. He couldn’t give her everything she wanted, but if he could satisfy her without losing his mind, maybe she would pass out.
“Take off your shorts,” he whispered, knowing with brutal certainty that he was going to hell. The only consolation was the hope that she wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. He knew her, and she would be mortified. But if she did remember…well, they would deal with it. “I’ll make it better.”
Her fingers were frantic and clumsy, and he had to help her. When she at last kicked the denim from her foot, the sight and scent of her drenched pink panties caused him physical anguish. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of the frothy lace, but he stilled her hand as he moved to lie beside her. He slid one arm beneath her head. “No, sweetie. Lie back.”
“But—”
“Shhh.”
She did as he told her but she mewled disconsolately about it. He fortified himself with a deep breath and slid his fingers under that sinful lace. He should have stayed on top of it. He’d meant to, but he had to allow himself this one thing. The feel of her. Heaven was under there, dewy curls and soft, hot, creamy folds. Kelsey threw her head back on his arm and moaned as his fingertips grazed her, her legs falling open to give him the full feel and scent of her. The graceful arc of her neck was something to behold, a sculptor’s wet dream.
His c*ck throbbed as he deliberately avoided venturing lower to the source of her wetness—the feel of that might well send him over the edge, plunge him into a madness that could only end with him spending himself inside of her. And damn her, she kept lifting her hips, trying to force his touch lower. He fought her, strumming her clit, caressing and stroking, slow and light to quick and hard. All the while he watched her face soften into that exquisite feminine expression of impending ecstasy, lips open, eyes closed, brows drawing together. Gorgeous.
“Take off my panties and lick me,” she whispered urgently.
“No. Just this.”
“Dammit!” she cried. “Don’t be like him.”
He didn’t have to guess who she meant, and just for that, he wanted to throw her thighs over his shoulders and tongue that tight little bud until she screamed for mercy.
Later. She was drunk on tequila and lust and he couldn’t let her bait him now. The trip was looking more and more delicious to him.
Kelsey came against his fingers with a ferocity that almost killed him. She seized his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his flesh through his shirt as her body tightened and she thrust her h*ps in rhythm with his hand. Her cries rang throughout his house, that usually gentle voice bold and carnal as it cried out his name, called him endearments. It was a sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again and again, shattering this emptiness, and he answered it with senseless murmurings in her ear, groaning with his need to feel her rippling and clenching around him.
The tension had no sooner flowed out of her than she was snoring, her arms slipping from around his neck. He couldn’t repress a chuckle, though his hard-on made it difficult to contemplate the fact that she was out now and he was alone in the same anguish she had just suffered.
Evan crawled away from her side and retrieved her shorts from the floor. There really was no danger of waking her at this point, so he slid them back over her legs, fastened them and threw the covers over her again. Her dark hair curtained her face. He reached down and gently drew the strands away, dropping a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Damn,” he whispered. He liked the look of her cuddled under his blankets, in his bed. He liked her hair spread out on his pillow. Her skin was pale and stark against the burgundy sheets and a twinge of worry, of aching tenderness for her, sparked in his chest. She’d been through so much, and he feared she wasn’t over it yet. He also feared he was the one who’d stirred it all up for her again.
It was irrational, but he couldn’t shake this constant lingering feeling that some of the blame for the entire debacle was on his shoulders. He’d introduced her to her ex-husband eight years ago, entrusting Todd with the girl who’d been a better friend to him in a couple of years than Todd had been since they were kids.
Sighing, he turned away and grimaced as he ambled toward his closet with the unyielding denim of his jeans playing hell on his erection. He retrieved an extra blanket and pillow and went to make his own bed, on the couch. What he wanted was to crawl under the covers next to Kelsey and hold her in his arms all through the night.
Evan was yawning at the kitchen counter and pouring another cup of strong black coffee when the unmistakable sound of retching drifted in from the direction of his room. He was surprised she’d made it this long.
He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He’d spent all night dreaming about her sweetness against his fingers, even after taking a shower as cold as he could stand it and coming hard in his hand with her name ricocheting through his brain. It had been a fitful sleep, to say the least, and he hadn’t even been able to go for his run this morning to work off the lingering frustration. Rain had begun to fall just after dawn—he’d still been lying awake—and it didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon. Ordinarily he would’ve just run through it and been thankful for the relief in this heat, but not with Kelsey here to look after.
Rain on what was supposed to be his wedding day. That would’ve sent Courtney into a screeching tailspin. Thank God he didn’t have to listen to it, although he could almost hear it. Oh my God, Evan! My dress! My hair! My makeup! Make it stop!
Well, she hadn’t been quite that bad. But somehow she probably would have made him feel like it was his fault water was falling from the sky.
He took a bottle of water out of his fridge, anticipating Kelsey’s cotton-mouth, and walked into his bedroom half afraid of what he would find. She’d flung the covers halfway across the room and his bathroom door was partially closed, as if she’d made a halfhearted attempt to slam it behind her on her mad dash. He walked over and rapped on it with his knuckles.
“You all right, Kels?”
“Uhhhhhhh,” was the response. He shook his head, smirking as he watched the rain drool down the windowpane across the room. Dim, murky gray light filtered over everything. She was lucky in that regard. No blinding morning sun to assault her senses.